


A Wanderer, Thinking of Home

by acommontater



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Family Dynamics, Gen, Pre-Avatar: Legend of Korra, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:15:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25133743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acommontater/pseuds/acommontater
Summary: As a kid, Bumi always treasured the one style of airbending he was able to truly master.
Relationships: Aang & Bumi II
Comments: 24
Kudos: 242





	A Wanderer, Thinking of Home

**Author's Note:**

> Bumi playing his lil flute in LoK really got to me. (Also I am convinced that he absolutely tormented Tenzin with it as kids- "Look at me airbend!" *plays obnoxiously loud in his ear until Tenzin sends him flying*)
> 
> Title is from "Listening To A Flute In Yellow Crane Pavilion" by Li T'ai-po.

Aang finds his oldest son tucked up under a tree, arms hugging his knees as he frowns out over the bay.

He sinks to the ground to sit next to him, waiting patiently. After a few seconds Bumi’s eyes dart over to look at him before determinedly looking back over the water. Several long minutes of silence pass without either of them speaking. Finally, Bumi sighs, his small shoulders slumping.

“Dad, I don’t think I’m a bender.”

Katara had told him as much when Bumi was little- he’d never shown any sign of being affected by the cycles of the moon like a waterbender would and remained stubbornly earthbound in the way an airbender never would.

“Do you want to be a bender?”

“Yes!” Bumi’s arms drop from his knees to slap his hands on the ground. “Am I just not trying hard enough? Because I’ve been practicing all the time, but I can’t do _anything_.”

His small face screws up like he’s holding back tears. Aang immediately leans forward and pulls him into a hug. Bumi buries his face in his shoulder, gripping at his robes.

“Oh, Bumi, no. Bending is just one part of a person. Not being a bender doesn’t mean you can’t do anything. Do you think your uncle does nothing?”

Bumi sniffs and shakes his head. He mumbles something into the fabric under his face.

“Can you repeat that? I can’t understand you with your face smushed.”

Bumi turns his face a little, not looking at him.

“No, Uncle Sokka is super cool! But… if I’m not a bender, you and mom won’t love me anymore.”

Aang’s heart cracks at the desolation in his son’s voice. He places his hands on his son’s shoulders and presses him back so they can look each other in the face.

“Bumi, your mother and I will always love you, no matter what. Nothing you can or cannot do would ever, _ever_ change that.” Aang says seriously.

“Even though I’m not an airbender?” Bumi asks desperately.

“Even though you’re not an airbender. You can be anything you want, and it would never make me love you any less than I do right now.” Aang says firmly.

Bumi eyes him for a moment, as if waiting to see if there was any hesitation in his statement. Aang watches him steadily. Finally, he seems to pass Bumi’s test and he flings his arms around his father’s neck. He hugs him back tightly.

They stay like that for a good few minutes.

Finally, Bumi pulls away and sits back on the ground, facing his father. Aang settles to mirror his position.

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding your mother and I all week?”

Bumi nods, looking slightly nervous but relieved. Aang sighs. Then he looks at his son and smiles.

“Well, there is one style of airbending that I can teach you, if you’d like.”

Bumi sits up, looking at him with wide eyes.

“Really?”

Aang nods.

“We can start lessons tomorrow, but for right now I think it would be best to not be late for dinner.”

Bumi smiles and springs to his feet.

“I’ll race you, dad!”

/

The next afternoon, after Bumi gets home from school, he goes tearing down the halls to Aang’s study. He knocks impatiently. Taps his toe on the floor as he waits for an answer.

Finally he is tired of waiting and slides the door open to peek in. He doesn’t see his dad, so he pokes his head a little further in. Bumi spots familiar colors out on the balcony and tiptoes into the room. (He and Kya aren’t allowed in here, but Dad had _promised_ …)

He frowns as he nears the balcony. Something looks weird.

It’s not until he’s at the doorway that Bumi realizes his dad’s tattoos are glowing, the light blue and eerie. He lets out a gasp and trips as he goes to step away.

His dad turns at the sound, except… it isn’t his dad. He looks at Bumi, but his eyes are the same odd bluish light instead of his dad’s friendly gray eye. Bumi freezes.

The Avatar’s face softens.

“Hello, Bumi, son of Aang.” The voice is his dad’s voice, but it isn’t, it’s like a hundred voices talking at once. It hurts his head a little.

“Um, hi.” Bumi says, still frozen on the floor. The Avatar’s face goes distant, as if listening to something far away.

“Do not worry, your father is returning soon.” The Avatar speaks with a voice like a kindly old woman. “But perhaps you should wait where you were told to.”

Bumi relaxes a little and grins sheepishly.

“Yeah, alright. Um. It was nice to meet you.”

The Avatar nods with an amused smile. Bumi gets to his feet and leaves the room on shaky legs.

/

His father meets him at the high point of the island with a smile. He’s got his hands tucked up in the sleeves of his robes, hiding something so Bumi can’t see.

He takes a seat next to Bumi, who holds his breath to see if he’s be scolded for being in the study without permission. But his father doesn’t say anything, just looks at him with excitement.

“Okay, are you ready to learn some specialized airbending techniques?”

Bumi sits up and nods, curious. Aang pulls two flutes from his sleeves.

“Ta-dah!”

Bumi takes the one held out to him, confused.

“Music,” His father says. “is all about controlling your air. And it was something all the Air Nomads learned, since it made long journeys go by faster.”

He shows Bumi how to breathe- slowly, with control- and how to position his fingers over the holes. After a few screeching, ear-splitting notes, Bumi finally plays a note that sounds sweet and clear like what Aang had demonstrated. He looks up with a wide grin.

“I did it!”

“You did! Can you do it again?”

Bumi concentrates.

Over the next few years, he masters the bamboo flute (he can improvise almost better than his dad by the time he’s fifteen), panpipes (duets were more fun to play when they could trade parts), and tsungi horn (to the annoyance of the inhabitants of Air Temple island for several long months). Sometimes during the week, it’s the only hour or two he gets to spend with his father.

(He knows his dad has important jobs and that he’s literally the only one who can teach Tenzin his bending, but sometimes it stings, seeing how much he’ll never be able to do.)

When he joins the United Forces, he brings along a portable version of his flute. During the long tours, when it’s safe, he’ll play. Sometimes with a thrown together group of fellow musicians and sometimes for himself.

(On his birthday before he’d shipped off, his dad had pulled him aside and presented him with the travel sized instrument. Bumi had traced the beautiful carving details reverently, the wood smooth and cool under his fingers. They’d hugged and it had been one of the first things he’d packed.)

The old airbender tunes are worn into his fingers and are soothing on the long nights when he sits on the bow of ships, unsure of what port he’ll be at next. He wonders if this is how his ancestors felt as they drifted from place to place. Funny, he thinks, that his baby brother is the only airbender, but himself and Kya are the nomads.

It isn’t until years and years later, after his father is gone, that he finds out he’d carved the flute himself. Bumi pulls it out to play along at the tribe festival and his mother had smiled softly.

“Oh goodness, I remember that. Your father spent weeks on those details. He kept having to blow the wood shavings out of our room.” She laughs lightly.

Bumi clutches the flute and swallows the lump in his throat. Looks down at the carvings with new eyes.

“He never said.” He says finally.

“Oh, Aang was thrilled to pieces that at least one of his children picked up an instrument that wasn’t just for a ritual.” She leans back, letting her eyes drift shut. “Your lessons together were one of his favorite parts of the week. Flute lessons with Bumi, dance lessons with Kya, and glider lessons with Tenzin- all of us knew when those were so that we wouldn’t schedule any conflicts unless absolutely necessary. Even in the council knew better than to try and pull him into an emergency meeting when it was his time with one of you three.”

“I didn’t know that.” Bumi says quietly.

“Mmm.” Katara nods slowly. “Do you remember the one about the petals on the breeze? I always liked that one when you two would play.”

Bumi gives her a crooked smile.

“Sure, mom.”


End file.
